“Oh no oh no oh no I’m so sorry oh my Bahamut–”

The dragon’s horrified rambling distorted into a wordless wail as they backed away, pressing themselves against the rough stone wall and curling up into a tight ball. They trembled as their wide-eyed gaze flicked from the broken, red smear on the floor to their own bloodied claws and back again.

“I swear I didn’t mean to!” they continued, their voice anguished. “But he just came swinging at me with that axe and I panicked and then I hit him and he–”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay!” Mara said, carefully placing her bow on the floor and stepping forward with her arms held far away from her sheathed daggers. “Well– okay, it isn’t okay, but it was an accident! We all know Brock, he’s a bit of a hothead and, to be frank, a huge idiot.”

“That he is!” Samson agreed, bent over the unlucky Fighter’s body. “But not to worry, we can still fix this.”

The dragon sniffled. “You can? He’s going to be okay?”

Samson rolled up his sleeves and shook his holy amulet free from inside his robes. “Oh, certainly. He’s more or less intact, so getting him back to the living is a pretty simple matter. Just need a few diamonds and a minute or two to focus.”

The dragon still looked terrified, their sides heaving like bellows as they took rapid, gasping breaths.

Mara felt a tug on her sleeve and looked down. Posie was beckoning her closer, the little gnome’s face serious beneath her wide-brimmed, pointed hat.

“She’s still spooked,” Posie whispered into Mara’s ear when she knelt down, “you’d better try to keep her calm while Samson puts Brock back together again.”

“Why me?” Mara hissed, glancing apprehensively at the dragon who had so easily dispatched their strongest party member. “Didn’t you see what that dragon did to Brock?”

“Samson is busy and you’ve already started talking to her! She hasn’t burnt us to a crisp yet, but that can change! Now hurry up!”

Mara yelped and skittered forward as she felt the hard wood of the little wizard’s staff smack her buttocks. She nearly turned to strangle the miniscule magician, but caught herself as the still-terrified dragon echoed her own exclamation with a shriek of her own.

“Sorry, sorry!” Mara soothed, her arms held wide. “I didn’t mean to shout, promise.” She took a cautious step forward. “What’s your name, dear?”

“Bri–” the dragon hiccuped. “Brimstone.”

“That’s a nice name.” She kept up her slow approach, a gentle smile on her face. “Have you lived here long?”

“No, I just moved in last month. I’d heard there was an old abandoned ruin in this area, and I figured I might extend the cellar into a proper lair…” the dragon trailed off and tried to back away from Mara, sliding along the wall. “There was no-one here when I moved in! I swear, not even a tribe of Kobolds!”

“It’s okay! We know. The only reason we came here in the first place was to find some shelter from the rain outside – we went down here to escape the worst of the wind.” Mara stopped an arm’s length away from Brimstone and smiled up at her. “I’m sorry we spooked you.”

Brimstone returned the smile with a shaky one of her own. “It’s alright. Again, I’m so sorry about your friend, truly…”

Mara looked over her shoulder to watch Samson working his magic over Brock’s body, golden sparkles drifting prettily in the air around him as Posie looked on. “Oh, Samson will have him fixed up in a minute. In the meantime–” she fished a handkerchief out of her pocket. “Do you want some help with that?”

Brimstone blinked, following Mara’s gaze to her own bloodied claws. She shuddered and looked away again, hiding her head beneath a wing. “Yes, please. I really don’t want to lick that off.”

She extended her leg and spread her claws wide, her face scrunched up as she looked away, eyes shut. Mara gently took one sword-length talon and began wiping it clean, feeling the tension in Brimstone’s muscles ease with every stroke.

“There. That’s much better, don’t you think?”

Brimstone peered down at her claws through one eye, sagging with relief as she saw them clean. “Yes, thank you! That is so much better. Though I’m sorry you ruined your handkerchief…”

“What, this old thing?” Mara laughed, stuffing the stained cloth back into her pocket. “Not the first time I wipe up Brock’s blood with it, and it won’t be the last!” She patted Brimstone’s claw. “Worth it to cheer you up.”

The dragon tittered, her tail wagging gently back and forth behind her. “Oh, what a lady. I might just–”

”HAH! I’m back! Have at you, dragon! You won’t best me twice!”

“No, Brock, wait–!”

Mara threw herself flat as Brimstone shrieked with panic. The dragon spun, her tail flying through the air like a living battering ram and impacting the just-revived Brock in the chest with a gasp of expelled air and the crumple of shattering armour.

A second later he smacked into the far wall with enough force to crack the stone, sticking wetly for a moment as he coughed.

Then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slid off the wall, leaving a bloody red trail behind.

Mara, Posie and Samson just stared.

”Oh my Bahamut!” Poor Brimstone wailed. “Not again!”

Been a while since I answered a prompt! Feels good to get back in the game! :D

Thanks for the great prompt, and thank you for reading!

Feel free to check out r/ZetakhWritesStuff for more dragon stories!

The party had experienced its fair share of setbacks, but Bridget had never seen an adventure go to hell so quickly. In hindsight, they had bitten off more than they could chew in trying to infiltrate the lair of a dragon.

First, Kaz couldn't resist pulling at a bejeweled scepter and set off a cascade of gold coins that woke the dragon from its slumber. Then Jorg immediately raised his enormous battleaxe and attacked, only to get swept into the wall by its tail and croak on the spot. The only silver lining was that the dragon didn't seem inclined to attack the rest of them, pacing across the lair and growling under its breath as it was. If anything it seemed... panicked.

Elein the Druidess looked up at the dragon thoughtfully. "I don't think it wants to fight us." She took a step toward it, and before Bridget's disbelieving eyes, the enormous creature recoiled. "I'm casting Commune."

"Don't waste a spell trying to communicate with the beast!" Kaz sputtered, his gaze flicking between the dragon and the exit, a throwing dagger in his trembling hand. "We should get out of here while we can."

"Shut up. It's your greed that got us into this mess in the first place." Bridget took a deep breath and nodded. "Do it, Elein."

Elein raised her staff, a string of elven flowing melodiously from her lips. All at once, the dragon's growls turned into a frantic, girlish voice.

"So squishy, why did the human have to be so squishy," she blabbered. "Am I in trouble? Stupid Nedreya, of course you are! You'll be hounded by dragon-hunters to the ends of the world, all because you freaked out instead of staying calm like mother taught you!"

The party exchanged wide-eyed looks.

"Noble Nedreya," Elein began.

"Aargh! You scared me. Calm down, calm down. Don't want to accidentally squish more of them." The dragoness took a deep breath that ruffled Elein's long hair. "You understand me?"

"All of us do." The druidess paused for a moment. "Am I to understand that you wish us no harm?"

"Why would I wish harm upon perfect strangers? You simply scared the stuffing out of me!" Tears pooled in Nedreya's enormous golden eyes. "Why would you do that? Why barge into my home and aim your sharp weapons at me?"

Elein shifted guiltily, opening her mouth, only to close it again and look at the others for guidance. Kaz just shrugged.

"We can talk about that later," Bridget hedged. Approaching Jorg's corpse, she laid her hand on his forehead. "His soul hasn't gone far. I should be able to recall it."

"T-the human's going to be all right?" Nedreya asked, leaning closer.

"If I work quickly. A moment of silence if you will."

"Yes, of course! I'll be quiet as a hare in its lair. Ooh, it rhymed!" The dragoness winced. "Sorry, you asked for silence. Please perform your magic. I'll watch quietly. Um, sorry again."

Bridget exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. The dragoness's agitated babble faded away, as did the rest of the world, as she briefly touched the unfathomable being of her god. Cracking open her eyes an indeterminate time later, she saw that Jorg's broken bones were knitting, and life was returning to his glassy eyes.

"He's returning," she said, sitting back wearily. "You two, please hold him down before—"

Jorg's head jerked up, his gaze flicking around wildly, then centering upon the dragoness who was watching the resurrection with bated breath. "Foul dragon!" he cried, bolting to his feet. "To arms, my friends!" With a roar, he hefted his axe and leapt at the dragoness.

"Jorg, don't!" Elein cried, stretching her hand toward him.

"D-don't point that thing at me!" Nedreya squeaked, falling back on her haunches.

"The beast fears me!" Jorg laughed, raising his axe for an overhead blow.

"Eeek!" Closing her eyes, Nedreya blindly stomped her clawed foot as a delicate lady would at a cockroach.

There was a wet crunch, then sudden silence. The dragoness raised her bloodied foot and stared. "Not again! Why does this keep happening? Ugh, I've got human all over me! Get it off, get it off!" She shook her foot, spraying blood and gore over the party.

"Goddammit," Bridget muttered, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

"Oh by George, he's dead. He's dead, isn't he? Oh, I killed him, oh Bant and Lung, I'm a killer. Oh, please, what do I do?"

"Nyugodt," Sinter called, gently strumming his mandolin. I could see the arcane energy reach out to calm the beast. It's breath slowed and it's muscles relaxed. Then it began sobbing.

"What are we looking at?" I asked Dorcas. She was a cleric, our healer. And right then, she was handling Kingsley's idiot corpse. The moron had rushed in, shouting, at the poor beast. It had tried to scramble up the wall and escape, but he caught its tail with his axe. Looked like a reflexive swipe that sent him flying across the cavern.

"Don't think there's an unbroken bone in his body. If I try to bring him back now, he'll be in pain, which he deserves, but he'll also probably die again, which makes it a waste. We had a plan, what was he doing?"

"No idea," I replied, knowing exactly what he was doing: being as big a prick as usual. "So we cart him back to the temple."

"You carrying him to the cart?"

"Hey, Sinter, you wanna—Oh COME ON! Where are your pants?"

The barbarians blood was dripping from the tail of the beast now cowering in the corner

“He literally just impaled himself running at it didn’t he “ piped up the ranger “ it didn’t even move at all , was he expecting it to swing its tail around to defend itself or something?”

“ sigh , intelligence was never his strong suit but this takes the cake, oh Mistress Muriel , Mark is dead , again”

The holy cleric walked forward from the raiding party over to marks corpse before looking up at the dragon in the corner who had “killed him”

“ shouldn’t we uhh deal with that before we think about resurrecting someone , it isn’t a fast spell “

The wizard walked forward toward the dragon , taking heed of the spikes

“ I don’t think this beast is much for battle, it’s very much awake but it didn’t even take an aggressive action , just bared it’s spiky behind at us “

The wizard stroked his beard

“ does anyone speak dragon by chance? Mine is extremely rusty… smart creatures you know…”

The entire raiding party just stood silent

“Anyone?…. No? Well fizzle sticks… I hope I don’t say something offensive…”

The mage walked toward the front of the dragon and began speaking

“ uhh excuse me, hello , I know you are awake , do you mind uhh having a chat “

The dragon rolled over , it’s wings covering its face

“ go away please, I’m sorry your friend is hurt but please go I’m not a monster “

The wizard was shocked “ oh , you speak common tongue , that would make this easier… uhh how do we say this , we were sent to slay you I’m afraid , terrorizing the town and what not “

The dragon lifted one wing up to look at the wizard “ I haven’t terrorized anyone , maybe ate a sheep or two… but I haven’t attacked any people… I was just hungry , I will just leave and go to another cave or ruin and you can say you did your quest “

The knight leading the party spoke up “ well uh , we are kind of supposed to bring your head back, but I mean you are a dragon right? Why are you not fighting back or anything “

“ because I don’t want to fight , I already said I’m not a monster… humans scare me because they always attack me…. So just please leave me alone “

The group chatted amongst themselves as suddenly the raging scream of the barbarian continued as he was brought back as he stood up he looked back and forth and at the dragon , he raised his axe and let out a piercing battle cry as he charged forward again onto another of the dragons spikes, dying again”

“ for the love of god mark “ shouted the cleric “ someone help me drag his body outside of the cave so this isn’t a repeat occurrence”

After shuffling marks body outside the group returned to the dragon

“ back to the matter at hand” the wizard started “ what shall we do about you… we can’t go back empty handed you know…. “

The dragon let out a sigh “ I know , but everywhere I go the humans always want to attack me and I just fly off to another cave… “

“ you know the king could use a dragon “ the knight spoke up “ Even if you are not a fighter… well just the idea of a dragon in the kings army would help to bolster fear for invaders… why don’t you come to the kingdom “

“ really? Even if I don’t want to fight? That would be wonderful…”

The dragon looked over to the mage

“ do you happen to have any good books for me to read there ? I’m honestly more of a book wyrm”

"Oh, shit! Go, go, go!"

The three remaining members of Dura's team raced through the cavern, weapons at the ready. Venmys was their heaviest artillery, their Arcanist's Rifle primed and crackling with energy; Conor was a little more lightly armed, a simple handgun in one hand and a holy symbol in the other, venerations to the Watchful Eye already flowing between his lips.

Dura, she preferred the old ways, like many orcs did. A sturdy sword and hardened armor that'd let her close the gap, regardless of what they were facing. Her multiple braids streamed behind her as she led her team in, the brass rings at the ends tapping against the back of her mithral breastplate as they went.

They'd been sent to look into the disappearances that the local precincts couldn't answer; the first point of contact, they'd decided, should be the dragon that their data showed had taken up residence here recently - perhaps she'd noticed something, with the powerful senses dragons were gifted with. Or, as Richard had pointed out, perhaps she was responsible. The disappearances had started shortly after her arrival in the area.

Dura was keeping an open mind. At least, she was until she heard the bellowing roar, and the sound of Richard's voice, first yelling in anger, then screaming in agony.

Now, the three of them charged into the deepest part of the cavern, and what greeted their eyes was not pretty. Richard was on the ground, eyes glassy and vacant, his Royal Inspector uniform - still new to him, their squad's rookie - rent down the front with great claw marks. Dura could see the bone of his ribs through the gashes; she heard Venmys swallow hard - the elf had no head for gore - and saw them raise their rifle out of the periphery of her vision.

"Royal Inspectors, don't move!" Venmys' voice rang off the stone, and Dura looked up from Richard's corpse to see what they had their crackling rifle trained on.

Sure enough; a dragon. Though, smaller than Dura had been expecting, barely an adult. And...she was cowering. Her claws were raised as she pressed herself against the back wall of the cavern, eyes wide and dilated, smoke curling around her face as she practically hyperventilated.

"Please, no, please, don't shoot! I didn't mean it! Please! Oh, by the platinum scales, please, please, help him!"

Conor had already reached Richard, sliding on his knees to look over the man, his brown eyes already glowing red with magic. "He's gone," the holy man's voice said, the gruff and pressured tone quite different from his normal jovial boom, "but not far. We're just in time."

He set his gun down, and withdrew several small gems from a pouch on his belt - diamonds, Dura knew. They glowed between his fingers as he invoked his god, a favorite deity of the healers of the Royal Inspectors, and begged for the return of their comrade to this world.

Conor had this. He was her second, and she trusted his judgment more than anything else in this world. If he said he could save Richard, that was good enough for her. She looked back up to the dragon, who was, if anything, trying to press herself further into the stone, as though she could meld into it. Perhaps she could.

Dura spoke up in a clear voice, and said, "Step away from the wall. Wings folded, claws where we can see them. Nice and easy. My friend doesn't want to shoot you, and they won't if you don't give them a reason to."

Venmys muttered to themselves, "Wanna bet?" The dragon wouldn't hear it over the sound of her rapid breathing, but Dura did; she gave the squad's arcanist a scowl. There was no hate in Ven; the elf just liked to shoot things. With a rifle like that, Dura couldn't blame them, really, but she still tried to keep the arcanist in check.

Dura turned her attention back to the dragon, who was slowly moving away from the wall, obeying her instructions.

"Good, good," Dura said gently. "Nice and easy. This doesn't have to go any worse than it already has. Just stay cool while my healer does his thing, then we can talk. Alright?"

This was why Dura was the sergeant for this squad. She had a knack for keeping things calm, and getting to the heart of a situation quickly. Being handy with a weapon was just a plus; she was a born investigator and negotiator. And now, her instincts told her there wasn't anything to worry about here. The dragon was frightened, alarmed by what was happening. There was no anger there, no ferocity.

"A-alright," the dragon stammered, slowly walking forward, the motion somewhat awkward as she walked on two legs toward them.

Dura's eyes flicked back towards Conor, still kneeling next to Richard's body, bearded chin moving as he gave word to the prayers that would summon their squadmate's soul back from beyond.

She heard a choking gasp from Richard, then a harsh cough. She felt the tension in her chest lighten as her rookie came back to them. Good. One less thing--

She heard Conor's wordless exclamation first, then saw Richard moving, scrambling towards his dropped rifle. He was ranting wildly as he went.

"You fucking scale-skin, I'm gonna blow your Gods-damned head off for that! Fucking menace!"

The dragon squeaked - actually squeaked - in fear, and backed away again, pressing herself against the stone wall as Richard made for his weapon.

Good job karkzak, not even a century old and you've gargantuanly messed up. the dragon thought to himself as he hugs his body with his large wings and holding his head with both paws trying to calm down.

not only you've killed an adventurer, but done so infront of their group. The dragon peeks behind him to look at an elf druid, a dwarf riding a warforged, three humans which are a rogue, cleric and fighter with the latter being dead lying in a pool of blood caused by a huge claw mark across their front. The human rogue spoted him looking at them and has told the group causing everyone to look at him and upon seeing their head turn towards him, he further curls into himself.

yep, i am surely dead he took another peek behind to see the elf and warforged approaching him so he decides to lay on the ground onto his side exposing his neck at least they would end this quick so he closes his eyes, bracing for death as their footsteps get closer except he hears them stop a few feet away "we're sorry about one of our party member startling you, this is a common occurence with them" he opens his eyes and turned their head to see the druid crouching with their hand out stretched. Confused he asked "you aren't going to slay me?" Foĺlowed by the druid placing their hand on his neck and slowly stroking it while responding with "no and besides, we entered this cave thinking it was a good place to shelter from the storm raging outside not expecting to find another creature here".

Hearing this he responded with a "thank you" before closing their eyes and falling asleep exhausted.

The walls of the castle shook and dust fell from the ceiling. The guard captain tried again "Sire, we need to get you out of here be-" but was once again silenced with a "Shhhhhh" from the king. The king was struggling to hear the recording crystal that was playing. He rewound it once again.

None of it made any sense. Nothing he'd seen yet would explain why dragons were sieging his castle. The recording started with the adventuring party skulking their way around some caves high in the Craven Mountains. They were searching ever nook and crevice. He was beginning to wish they hadn't finally found what they were looking for. They found a dragon cave.

It wasn't a very big cave. It wasn't a very big dragon. It was clear what the "quest" they were on: Slay A Dragon. The king groaned. Only idiots took that quest and the dragons got a free meal so nobody complain, especially not him because he had fewer idiots making trouble. And what trouble they had made.

He looked more closely at the dragon they had ambushed. He wasn't just small... he was kinda malformed. His scales were mottled brown and orange. The head seemed a little misshapen? Also what were those things the dragon was... organizing. Were those portraits? Portraits of women? Hey that looks like a portrait of his daughter. How? Why? He shook his head in confusion. And that's when the barbarian rushed in screaming. What an idiot.

The dragon spun around, the barbarian already anticipating this along with the dragons fiery breath and so had leaped into the air. Except the dragon hadn't breathed fire and really wasn't that fast so the barbarian had mistimed it and the tail by shear luck thwacked him into a wall. Blood went everywhere.

That's the point when the rest of the team rushed in but instead of finding a dragon on the offensive they found a sad pitiful dragon in the corner crying and trying to get blood off one of the portraits. A dragon on the offensive isn't that hard to kill oddly enough once on the ground. But a defensive dragon all turtled up? Yeah much harder to kill.

Poor thing was totally distraught too about killing someone and what did they do? They did the only reasonable thing. They stole his hoard. The recording ended.

Guess he'd better get caught up on what's going on outside. "Captain. Report." he commanded.

The captain stood to attention "Sire, the big orange dame set our outer wall is on fire. We are running low on arbalest ammunition. One of the juvenile browns collapse the east tower. I'm not sure how much longer we can hold out."

The king pondered and finally spoke "You've seen the crystal, would you say that dragon is similar in appearance to those outside?"

"Sire, they look very similar sir, except this dragon is a bit... runtier sir? Less majestic? Kinda I don't know. Just overall less?"

The kings eyes opened wide in horror and realization: "You know Edmund, the footman's boy, Down syndrome? You think dragons...? Any ideas for how to placate the parents of a Down syndrome dragon?"

The rest of party bent over, covering their ears with no effect, as the psychic screaming of the panicked dragon echoed relentlessly through their minds

> NO NO NO NO WHAT I JUST DO NO NO NO DO NOT WANT

"Please, stop! You're hurting us!" The cleric screamed at the flailing dragon, as blood trickled from his nose.

I wiped a warm wet stream from my own stoically.

> SORRY

The dragon echoed. It stopped it's psychic screams and curled up into a ball, knocking its bony skull into the castle walls to calm itself.

Dust and cinder fell from the rafters and the structure creaked ominously. The cleric laid a hand on the dragon.

"Hey. hey. Hey. It's not perma-death. I have a Resuscitation Elixir for the murderhobo fighter. I know you're upset , but if the tower collapses, I die, you die, everyone dies. And I won't be around to revive anyone."

> No, don't do that

The dragon laid a firm and unyielding palm on the cleric.

> Those who come back have all been corrupted by the Void.

It's eyes narrowed at Aleric, the golden-haired elf who kept his bow still raised at the dragon. Aleric's eyes flashed, and for a moment, the blues were replaced by dark swirls like the night sky. An enchanted arrow flew through the air. Aleric gasped, then crumbled into dust, the runes from my own bow still slowly dissipating.

"You're right. " I tell the dragon. "You have the Sight , too. Now, we must hunt." I grunt, and force the wings out from beneath my shoulder blades, dragon scale replacing the veneer of human skin I wore as a glamor.

"So why am I stuck reviving Magnus again?" asked Cynthia as she started pouring magic into the broken corpse that used to be their party member.

"Because," replied Prince Erik fon Valmark, "Magnus is a valuable member of this party and we should treat him the same respect he does to us." That made Cynthia stop her magic,

"Oh," she said, "Like he treated me with respect when he told me I should 'go back to the nunnery and leave the work to the menfolk'?" She brandished her mace just under his nose. Erik had personally seen the weapon turn men, monsters and even a couple demons into a fine paste.

"Or," said Arynia, their archer, "when he told me I should go back to the forest and play with flowers?". The elven woman was the most terrifying hunter the prince had ever met, as well as his friend Alex the Hero's fiance, "or when he told Emmet that magic was for 'pussies' and he should pick up a sword and fight like a 'real man'?"

Erik facepalmed,

"Okay," he said, "Magnus is an asshole, he's still been my friend since childhood."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the cavern, Emmet the wizard and Alex the Hero were trying to calm down a dragon.

"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry!" she cried.

Emmet was using a pair of giant spectral hands to rub the dragon's shoulders,

"Easy now," he said calmly, "slow deep breaths."

"In through the nose," Alex told her, "count to four, out through the mouth."

The dragon closed her eyes, breathed as instructed and it did calm her down,

"Thank you," she said, "I'm terribly sorry about that. Your friend just...charged right at me screaming bloody murder."

"Yeah," said Emmet, "he did that a lot."

"He did it to me the very first time we met," said Alex, "he wasn't exactly the smartest."

"Yeah," said Emmet, "not the first time he's run in and gotten killed either. Remember last year at the 'tea party'?"

Alex groaned, "why'd you have to go and remind me of that?"

"Because it was hilarious," said Emmet.

"For you maybe," said Alex, "you weren't the one getting shot at!"

"Shield spell and Greater Invisibility," said Emmet, "Name me a better spell combination."

Alex shook his head,

"Are you all right now Lady Kalithirax?" he asked the dragon.

"Yes," she replied, resting her silver scaled head on the floor, "Again, I'm terribly sorry. Bu if you don't mind my asking why do you keep someone like that in your party? It sound like he caused nothing but problems."

"Because he's Erik's best friend," replied Alex, "he has something of a blind spot when it comes to Magnus."

It was true, every time Magnus had gone charging in, sword held high, screaming his head off, Erik had looked the other way during the inevitable aftermath. Every pointless battle, tavern brawl and today's suicidal charge. The man only seemed to know only one tactic: run straight at his opponent, sword in hand. Alex had told him more than once it would get him killed, and today it got him back handed into a wall by a dragon. A dragon the party had specifically sought as an ally against the Dark Emperor.

"We must apologize Lady Kalithirax," said Emmet, "We told him we were here to seek your aid. Multiple times."

It was at this moment that Erik walked over to the pair,

"Except that wasn't what Magnus wanted to do," he said, "I actually asked me why we were 'taming a beast instead of killing it'. Honestly I'm starting to wonder why I let him join us."

"Because he was our heaviest hitter," said Alex, "If we needed something cleaved in half he was the guy to do it. Though I doubt even he'd be able to do anything with that." He pointed to where Magnus's enormous greatsword had fallen, or rather what was left of it. The blade had been shattered like glass and fragments of it littered the floor of the cavern.

"Yeah," said Emmet, "it was the one thing he was actually good at."

Erik facepalmed again,

"I get it," he said with a groan, "my best friend was an asshole. And to be honest we are probably better off without him."

"So," said Cynthia, "does that mean I don't have to bring him back again?"

"No," said Alex, "and I also have something I want to try."

As the assembled party watched quizzically, Alex leaned in close to Lady Kalithirax and whispered something into her ear.

"Why yes," she said, "I absolutely can do that."

In a great flash of magic the dragon vanished, and was replaced with the most beautiful woman that Prince Erik had ever seen. She was tall, with long silver hair and the most intense cerulean eyes. She would have been mistaken for an elf if not for the draconic horns atop her head.

"Is this suitable?" asked Lady Kalithirax. Alex nodded,

"I'd say that's perfect," he said.

And that was how a dragon became an adventurer.

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